


The Concept of Living

by ThreeAM



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Multi, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeAM/pseuds/ThreeAM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two and a half weeks since the virus broke out. The disease caused a violent, carnivorous hunger and deterioration of brain function beyond the ability to seek out and consume flesh. Inmates at the Vermont State Juvenile Correctional Facility who were 'lucky' enough to be locked in their cells at the time the infection reached their prison have been trapped without food. If it's not infection that kills them, it's starvation. </p>
<p>Luckily for the survivors, one of the inmates happens to have the best big brother in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Octavia blinked, heavy and slow, her three inch length of thick wire bent beyond straightening from her constant fidgeting. She felt like her stomach was made of concrete, slowly and painfully grinding its walls together while her body absorbed every ounce of fat left on her body. What had been soft curves two weeks ago were slowly becoming unsightly protrusions of bone and sinew. She wasn't entirely sure of the events that led to her starvation, but she knew zombies when she saw them, so she could make a pretty educated guess on what was happening to the people outside.

She wasn't sure if she was lucky or not to have made it back to the cells unbitten. It started at breakfast. One of the guards, who was notorious for getting a little too comfy with some of the older girls, had been looking unsightly all morning. He was pale, looked like he'd been having nosebleeds, but snapped at anyone who asked him about it. About an hour after she'd first seen him, they were sitting at breakfast when there was some big commotion started about a girl having a 'gross bite mark' on her arm. She hadn't even made it to the med bay before that guard had completely succumbed to the infection and had grabbed another guard by the collar and literally bitten his face off. This incited a panic-induced riot, and given the growing situation in the real world, no backup came to help them out. 

Octavia wanted to get out, but after eight hours of punching and fighting while the girls pounded on the doors to the outer yards -- and freedom -- to no avail, things started to get more serious. Octavia was looking for a trash chute in the kitchens when she came across the nurse, who was missing most of the flesh off her left forearm. She told Octavia to stay away from anyone with bites, that there was an infection going around and it spread to here. 

There was no way she was getting through that riot unbitten. Obviously that guy had something, he was biting people, now the girl he'd bitten was EATING people! Again -- Octavia knew zombies when she saw them. She wasn't stupid. So the next place she went was to punch a guard in the face and to let herself get caught. The guards were trying to get people locked back in their cells, and as far as her logic went, if she was locked up, nobody could bite her.

To their credit, it seemed they'd managed to get at least fifty girls locked away, but there were over two hundred, and within 24 hours, most of the staff and inmates were infected. In a desperate attempt to flee the fray of infected, she suspected one of the guards opened a doorway to the outside, because now, with only the quiet, dying forms of starving people behind bars for food, most of the crowd had disappeared to take their chances on the population of the outside world. The ones safely locked away starved, for the breeze that whatever open door blew to her cell carried the stench of decaying bodies or the groans of dying teenagers. Of the three girls she could see across the hall of cells from her own, Octavia had only seen one of them move today. The blonde one hadn't moved all of yesterday, either.

The pointed end of the wire bit into her hand, and for the fifth time today she contemplated it. As far as she knew, anyone who knew to come looking for her was dead. She could pick the lock as try her luck outrunning the cannibal maniacs out there, but the odds weren't exactly in her favor without some form of crowd control -- she had gone nearly three weeks without eating and felt like actual death would come any day now. She could plunge it into her neck, but she wasn't sure if she had the strength or the accuracy to do it properly. She could sharpen it on the concrete wall and swallow it, she supposed, but after days of starving agony, a slow death by internal bleeding didn't sound so great. 

And the longer she waited to decide, the closer death crept toward her anyway. At this point, it wasn't a matter of if, but rather how. Or so she thought.

She was drawn from her grim contemplations by the sound of commotion. Violent commotion. At first it was the grunts of the infected that seemed to have found hopeful prospects of food, but it began to sound like something more akin to riot police or a brawl. Probably another idiot trying to escape, though she didn't know why they were bothering at this point.

"Octavia!" The shout of that unmistakable voice made her sit up so fast her head spun. She gagged, but all that came up was a trickle of the water she'd gulped from the tap that morning. Gurgling and wiping her mouth, she groaned out a sound that was neither loud nor a real word.  
She stood, cleared her throat, and tried again. "Bellamy!? Is that you? Bell," she sobbed, not even realizing she was going to cry until the tears began to escape her.  
"O, where are you? Keep talking," his shout was closer this time. Apparently there were less infected people down there than she thought there would be. They didn't have much reason to stick around, she supposed. Their locked up food was practically dead anyway.  
"I'm on the second level, there's a torn shirt on the ground over here," she called, hearing his heavy footsteps begin to pound up the metal staircase as she spoke. It was a lame landmark to follow, but it'd have to do.

He burst into view, looking a little worse for wear. Okay, a lot. He was covered head to toe in dirt, his usually slicked back hair rested unkempt in its natural waves, and he looked like he hadn't showered in days. She didn't care -- she was just happy to see him. "Whats going on? What happened to.... how did this happen? How did you get here? I'm so glad... you made it!" Octavia pressed herself to the bars, pointedly trying to ignore his high school championship baseball bat, now caked with fresh and dried blood, or the mean-looking crossbow that was hooked onto his backpack.  
"It's a really long story we're going to have to save for a safer time, O'," he said as he began to fumble with a key. There was only one, so she guessed he'd raided the warden's office for the master key. He had the door open in moments, though he slid it shut behind him before pulling her into a tight hug. "My god O, you're so fucking bony."  
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you don't get fed in over two weeks," She slurred, putting more weight on him than she realized. Carefully, he set her down on the bunk and began to dig in his backpack, quickly producing a carton of long-life milk.

"Listen to me O', really carefully. If i feed you right now, you'll just puke it up. You gotta drink milk for a few days, then maybe soft food. We're gonna have to bunk here for a while. It's gonna suck but if you try to eat real food it won't be good." Bellamy sat down next to her and watched her take the carton, then began to empty its contents onto the bed next to her. At least eight more cartons of milk fell out, along with another two packets of powered milk and powdered mash potatoes, a few jars of apple sauce, peanut butter, two bars of chocolate, at least ten oranges, and a tonne of beef jerky.  
"Whoa Bell, did you even bring any clothes in there?" Octavia murmured, wiping milk off her chin. Normally she hated milk, especially UHT stuff, but it was like the nectar of the gods to her right now. She forced herself to take small sips.  
"No room. Had to make sure you had enough."  
Octavia chuckled. "There's weeks' worth of food stored in here, big brother. But its okay, we can give the milk to the other girls."

Bellamy went quiet and gave her a look like she'd just asked if they could adopt a stray cat. Octavia lowered the carton and looked at him incredulously. "Bell, we can't leave them here to starve! Please. There's more food here than we could ever carry. We can save them! There's gotta be like 20 girls in here that are still alive."  
"Octavia, it'll take at least a week before i even consider moving you, and mom's car only seats five safely. Even if we found more drivers still alive in this prison full of minors, a fleet of cars is gonna attract way more attention than we want. Plus, how are we gonna set up a freakin' trauma ward in a prison open to infected? Neither of us know shit about first said aside from CPR can crack ribs and starving people shouldn't eat solids."  
The younger Blake sibling slouched, tapping the carton in thought. "I know someone. Who knows stuff about first aid, i mean. Her mom's a surgeon and an aid worker overseas and so she--"  
"And how do you know she wasn't bitten by now? Or run away? Or Starved?" Blake asked, sounding almost tired.  
"Because she's in solitary," Octavia replied simply. "And i survived, didn't i?"

\--

Octavia plodded down the hall of the now eerily quiet prison with the sheet from her bed around her shoulders, the careful footsteps of her brother following behind her. She felt bad for leaving the other girls behind, if only temporarily, but without someone who knew a bit more about what they were doing, even more might kick it.

"Solitary's down here," Octavia said, motioning to a basement-like lower level where ten cells lined a short hallway. Unlike Octavia's, these doors had no bars or barred walls, just solid concrete and a metal door with a heavy lock. Wasting no time, she went for the first one, taking the key from Bellamy and opening it. The first cell to the right was empty. They worked along the right, opening each door. In the third one, they found a girl dead, the plastic knife from her last meal lodged into her eye socket. Feeling a pang of dread that it had almost been her in that situation too, Octavia pulled off her blanket and draped it over the body before closing the door and locking it again. At least her corpse wouldn't be devoured.

They found one other girl, this one breathing but unconscious. Octavia knelt down and tried to shake her awake, and though she got a twitchy response, she didn't wake. Octavia turned and held out the key. "You keep looking, i'm going to try and wake her up," she advised. 

Bellamy took the key, staring at the girl on the floor only briefly before stooping to pick up an empty plastic cup off the floor. "Try fill this with water and splash it on her face," he suggested, then moved out into the hallway. There were only three doors left, and as luck would have it, the only other person in solitary was in the last room they checked. He unlocked the door and opened it, only to be confronted by drawings -- mostly landscapes -- drawn all over the walls and floor in what he could only assume was charcoal. He found the inhabitant of the cell crouched in the corner next to a fairly disturbing picture of a two-headed deer.

"Octavia, this your friend?" He called out, leaning into the hallway to call to her. His sister emerged and peeked into the room, then moved forward to shake the girl's shoulder. Slowly, the blonde stirred and raised her head.  
"Octavia?" she whispered, her voice coarse and hollow. "What's going on? Why--"  
"Ssh," his sister cooed, patting her shoulder. "We'll explain later, but we need to get you fed and walking." She turned to Bellamy, who slipped his bag off his shoulders and dug Octavia's opened milk carton out of his supplies. He handed it to Octavia, who gave it to the girl on the floor. She shot a weary glance at Bellamy, but apparently was too hungry to care.  
"Careful. Small sips," Bellamy warned.  
"I know," the girl sighed at him, then proceeded to drink. Once she'd stopped herself, she asked "how come they never fed us?"

"Well, you're probably not going to believe the truth until you see it for yourself, so lets just say there's a lot going on in the outside world and they forgot about us. There's a lot of starving people in this building and we need to get them revived but the girl nextdoor won't wake up so we can't feed her." Octavia slumped to the wall next to her friend, who seemed to understand something as Octavia spoke. She looked upset for a moment, but her face returned to neutrality quickly.  
"There would be lots of supplies in the infirmary," she began carefully, her voice sounding a little clearer now that she'd woken up properly. While she'd looked weak at first, she had really only been sleeping -- she looked to be in even slightly better shape than Octavia was. "Maybe they'll have adrenaline or epinephrine or something but... if they're not waking up we need to get them to a hospital."  
"There are no hospitals," Bellamy butted in in frustration.  
"What do you mean, no hospitals? What's really happening here? Have we been invaded or something? Am i being punked?" The girl began to shakily stand, using the wall for support.

"No, we're not being punked. There's been a pandemic... ish... thing. Everyone infected goes crazy and it spreads by bite," Bellamy huffed, but he knew as soon as he said it aloud she wouldn't believe him.  
"Okay buddy, i don't know who you are or what you're doing here but if i look like a moron to you--"  
"We can lock you back up in here if you don't wanna take me seriously," Bellamy snapped back, but Octavia stood and stepped between them.  
"Guys, stop wasting your energy. Bellamy, this is Clarke. Clarke, this guy is my brother. I wish he was lying, but he's not, and we really need your help, so please help us. The longer we wait, the more people starve on us."

Clarke apparently didn't take much convincing, and nodded. "I hope you brought more of this," she muttered as she raised the milk to drink a little more. "The cafeteria keeps long-life, but it's been a while since their last delivery."  
"I thought you've been in solitary, how do you know that?" Bellamy asked, furrowing his brow. In reply, Clarke pointed to the wall next to the door, where she had kept an expansive tally of days. The spot was greyed and smudged, obviously from starting over each time she was put into solitary.  
"We should gather all the um... survivors? Into the cafeteria. Comfort can become an issue when we have time for it, so for now just get as many as you can. You," she pointed to Bellamy, "carry the other girl up there, we'll put her in there on the way to the cells. Octavia stays with her with the doors closed and guards whoever we bring with that crossbow. You and I will search the cells and i'll determine whether they're alive, dead or.... infected."  
"We weren't kidding. Do you still not believe us?" Octavia asked, frowning, but Clarke shook her head.  
"I believe you, i'm just assuming the virus takes time to take hold. If we find anyone bitten, you understand we can't bring them into the cafeteria, right?"  
The siblings nodded.. "Okay then. Let's go."  
"Lead the way," Bellamy gestured as he ducked out to pick up their unconscious buddy.

"And uh..." Clarke waited until he'd come back with the girl in his arms before speaking to the both of them. She cleared her throat, glancing at the two siblings with something akin to gratefulness. Tired, hungry, despairing gratefulness. "Thanks. For finding me."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sixteen. From two-hundred," Octavia muttered to her brother as he secured a broom across the handles of the closed cafeteria doors.  
"We weren't exactly swimming in good chances," Bellamy reminded her softly. He'd found clean clothes once they'd gathered the survivors. Granted, they were a guard's uniform shirt and a pair of sweatpants they found in the laundry rooms, but it was better than dusty and sweaty. Anyone up and able to walk had already cleaned up as best they could with the dish washing hose in the kitchens, himself included.  
"And you're sure there were no others?" She quizzed him further, and he gave her a look before gesturing to the blonde shuffling back and forth between her patients.  
"Ask your bossy friend over there, she's the coroner." "Are you sure you're not doing that dumb boy thing, where you're mean to people you secretly like because feelings aren't manly or whatever?" Octavia teased in a hushed tone, earning herself a glare. "Yeah, you're right, you're not even human anyway. The rules don't apply to you!" She stuck out her tongue and Bellamy didn't dignify her with an argument. As if.

For the past 24 hours, all Clarke had done was give him orders while she sipped milk that she wouldn't even have if he hadn't brought it for his sister. Granted, he was the only able-bodied person in the whole building, but she was so cold about it, like it was just a natural thing for her to be in charge. He'd already started doing things without her telling him to and then subtly bragging about it to her in passing. So far he wasn't sure if it was getting to her, but he hardly knew her well enough to read her, that's for sure.

The room, to his pride, was a little more hospitable than he was originally expecting it would be. After he'd relished in blondie freaking out over seeing an actual infected guy sprint at her, he'd shut the ex-guard down and they moved on. Though she'd looked quite shaken by the display, the next five they had to take out warranted less of a reaction from her. She let him do the muscle work, told him who was alive and who was dead, and they ended up with their sixteen. She had declared that the premises were barren enough for them to get mattresses and other furnishings as well as their med supplies.

It had taken them hours, but now every person had bedding, and Clarke was hunched over their less-than-impressive medical haul with a furrowed brow and a grim expression. The siblings approached, and she looked up at them without even bothering to put on a happy face.

"We have two shots of epinephrine, and five unconscious girls. We have to feed the other three by tube," she announced, straightening and holding up the two glass bottles with detailed labels. "Question is, do we give the shots to the strongest patients and hope the weak ones come through, or do we give the shots to the weakest ones and hope the stronger ones can wake up soon?"  
It was a tough question, though if he was being honest, Bellamy was of the opinion that they didn't have time to be waiting around for these girls. "What if they're comatose? What if they don't wake up for months? What do we do then? We can't stay here forever."  
"We can at least try. Besides, what's the hurry? Do you have somewhere to be?" Clarke challenged, gently setting the bottles down on the tables beside her.  
"I do actually. It's called the south, because my sister and i have an appointment with not freezing to death when winter rolls around. Electricity isn't gonna last forever without anyone maintaining it, and i'm not gonna be stuck here freezing my ass off waiting for dead people to wake up." He felt like an ass, but he'd slaughtered sick people to get to his sister. He wasn't about to back down from having a spine just because some brat stamped her foot. "As soon as O's better, she and I are leaving."  
"What? You're the ones who got me up to save them! How the hell am i supposed to do that on my own?"  
Bellamy threw his hands up as he backed away toward where Octavia sat with food for both of them. "Not really my problem, Nightingale."

\---

In the end, Clarke gave the shots to the weaker patients. It wasn't the most logical move in terms of survival, but if she considered that they probably weren't going to survive anyway, the moral choice would make her feel better anyway. They woke and she rushed to get them to drink water. Neither could sit up, so she had to help them out. Though their consciousness should have made her happy, as the day wore on, the weakest of the three she hadn't woken was burning up with a fever. 

Within two days, the fever claimed the sick girl. Octavia was apparently the more compassionate sibling, because she convinced Bellamy to carry the dead girl down and lock her in one of the empty cells in solitary. They couldn't bury her, so a tomb hidden away from feasting infected was the best they could do. Luck wasn't all bad though, because Clarke meticulously nursed the other two girls, and a few hours after Bellamy locked away the body, one of the two remaining conscious girls woke. Her name was Fox.

Four days after Bellamy and Octavia freed the prisoners, Clarke gave eight girls the all-clear to start eating soft foods. Despite his speech about ditching as soon as Octavia was better, Bellamy fell into the role of resident chef, somehow. Mostly because he was the only one present who cooked for himself on a regular basis. He liked to pretend to be stubborn, but Clarke knew she was even more so and she usually managed to beat him at his own game. In the end, she suspected he wasn't as opposed to helping the girls as he let on -- something about her mentioning her mom was a pretty famous surgeon seemed to have triggered some knee-jerk reaction for him to be as contrary to Clarke as possible. But with most of the girls seemingly on the recovery path, Clarke allowed herself to relax a little more and ignore Bellamy's broody vibes. Though, she had to admit he'd been right about one thing -- the mornings were starting to have a chill to them. Winter would be on them soon. 

On the eighth day, Bellamy woke Octavia in the early morning. They had a hushed argument, which in turn woke Clarke. Both stopped talking and glanced when the blonde blinked heavily at them.

"You're leaving," she said. It wasn't really much of a question, because she already knew the answer. "I noticed there were some supplies missing, so i assumed..."  
Bellamy affirmed and Octavia denied in unison, causing them to glare at each other. Octavia's face bore the look of defiance, and Bellamy looked like he was trying to convince a misbehaving child to go to bed.  
"Hey, it's alright. I thought about it. You didn't have to save us, but you did. I can't ask any more of you guys," Clarke said, carefully pulling herself to her feet and offering them -- mostly Octavia -- the nicest smile she could muster. "Most of the girls will be okay soon, we'll probably secure the place and hang out here until someone sorts this mess out."  
"Oh, Clarke!" Octavia pulled the other girl into a tight hug, drawing out a breathless huff from the blonde. "I'm sorry. And thank you for helping us too," she nodded, stepping back. There was an awkward silence, where Octavia looked up at her brother and inclined her head toward Clarke, like a mother expecting her kid to say good bye to their least favorite uncle. He sighed at her, then turned to Clarke.  
"Yeah, thanks kid. Sorry we couldn't stick around," he muttered. Clarke nodded and held out her hand, for a handshake, but Bellamy stooped to the floor and picked up his bat, slapping that into her hand instead. 

"You should keep this, just in case. There's a gun in the warden's office too, but the noise will probably draw more of them so only use it in an emergency."  
Clarke lifted the bat. He'd washed off most of the blood, and now the blood-caked engraving on the side was more clear. "East Maple High Rebels, 2016 Champions." She read it in a neutral tone, then raised a brow at him. "You're beating people up with a commemoration bat?"  
"It's metal, ain't it?" He shrugged, then muttered "I was captain in my senior year."  
"Senior year as in 2016? You're olllld," to her surprise, she chuckled at her own dig and how much it riled him up. "What are you, like 23?"  
"What? No. I'm still 22, i'm in my prime -- you're just a runt," he said defensively.  
"Barely," Octavia rolled her eyes. "Besides, Clarke was due for big girl prison this month! Practically an adult already," she added, almost chipper, and both Clarke and Bellamy looked at her. She deflated a little. "What? You are."  
"Yeah, well i guess one good thing came outta this shitty situation," Clarke sighed, rubbing her neck nervously. 

"Speak of the devil, we have to go marching into that at a reasonable hour, so..." Bellamy cleared his throat. "Got your stuff, O'?" His sister smiled sadly. "What stuff?" "Right. Yeah," Bellamy cleared his throat, and nodded to Clarke. "Try not to die, yeah?" "Same to you," she nodded, then hugged Octavia again. Clarke had no idea what she was going to do when they were gone, but she couldn't ask them to stay. She knew as well as they did that a group of sickly teenagers wasn't going to make it out in the open, Bellamy or no Bellamy. The least she could do was let the siblings have a chance on their own. The two girls separated, and before they could be distracted by baseball again, Bellamy put an arm around his sister's shoulders and guided her from the room. They went through the kitchen exit, to avoid deconstructing the restraints on the main doors, and out into the delivery yard. Clarke followed them to the door, and Bellamy wordlessly pressed the master key into Clarke's hand before drawing his crossbow and leading Octavia out of sight. With a heavier heart than Clarke had anticipated, she shut the door and shuffled back to her ward of sleeping inmates. She picked up Bellamy's bat and sat on one of the steel tables, knowing without trying that sleep would be impossible. 

It was just as well too, because the desperate pounding and shouting at the kitchen door less than ten minutes after the siblings' departure ended up waking everyone in the room, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

"Who's there!?" Clarke called, approaching the door cautiously. A small crowd of concerned girls stood behind her in the doorway from the kitchen to the main hall, and Clarke turned and motioned for them to hide around the corner. They all pressed back, one of the girls clutching the baseball bat at the head of the group.  
"Clarke, it's us!" She heard Octavia's voice and opened the door, only to find herself staring down the barrel of a pistol.  
"What the hell is this?" Clarke demanded, glaring at the guy holding the gun. His hair was oily and uncut and he had a hooked nose on a harsh face. Then her gaze fell on Bellamy and Octavia, who were being held by other members of a group of approximately seven boys by a kitchen knife and their crossbow. They looked young, and all wore similar grey shirts and orange pants. Clarke connected the dots quickly. "The boys' juvy. Of course."  
"Nice guess. We're here for your food," the guy at the door stated plainly, walking forward so Clarke was forced to walk backward. 

"Isn't there food at your prison?" Clarke asked calmly, trying not to nervously glance at the gun.  
"Yeah, there was, but then SOMEONE decided to shoot up a flare to catch a helicopter's attention. It ignored us, but the zombies didn't, so we drew them into the kitchens, and used the gas burners to fry em' up." He chuckled. "Smart huh? Anyway, where's your food."  
"That depends. How much do you want?"  
"All of it would be nice," he shrugged. "If not, i'll settle for shooting your friends and than taking it anyway."  
"What makes you think they're my friends?" Clarke bluffed, trying her best to do a convincing scoff. "I kicked them out for a reason. You can do whatever you like with them."  
"Oh really? Why'd you let em' leave with a weapon then?"  
"Please, i'm not an animal."

"Okay, Princess. Enough with the bullshit, and tell us where the food is." He frowned when she shook her head, nervously wringing her hands.  
"I'm sorry. I have more people to feed than you do," she begged, her breathing growing more laborious.  
"I can solve that. Shoot the girl!" He called over his shoulder, and Clarke stepped toward Octavia in a panic.  
"No! No no no don't shoot her! Don't." She willed tears to spill from her eyes, to make them sympathetic. She was starting to brew up a plan, but only had seconds to execute it. "Don't shoot her."  
"Last chance. Where is it?" He leaned in so close she could smell his breath, and with a defeated, shaky sigh, she looked over at the pantry room. "In there," she pointed weakly, and he chuckled and patted her on the shoulder.  
"See! I knew you were a good girl. Atom, Connor, come help me out here." He smirked and began to stalk past Clarke. 

As soon as she was out of his periphery, she turned and jumped on his back. She didn't have strength on her side, so the best she could do was sink her teeth into his neck and grasp his gun arm as best she could. His friends shouted, but they couldn't shoot her or pull her off him while she was hanging off him by her teeth. She tugged and squirmed, and within seconds he was toppling backwards. 

They landed heavily on the floor, and the gun fell out of his hand, bouncing across the floor. He sat up and flung himself after it, slapping his hand over it as she threw herself on top of his back. Clarke clawed at the face of one of the boys who tried to pull her off him, only to duck just in time to avoid the shot that he fired over his shoulder. Once it had sailed past, she ripped the weapon out of his hands and scrambled to her feet, pointing at its former owner. A quick glance around the room assessed that the girl with the bat, Harper, and several other girls had entered the room, while the smaller group of boys stood on the other side with Bellamy. Octavia had slipped her captor's grip and stood over with the girls, glancing between the groups nervously.

"Jasper!" One of the boys suddenly cried out, and she heard the sound of someone falling heavily against the wall. One of the newcomers was looking down at his chest, where a pool of blood was forming on his light shirt. Apparently, the bullet that was fired had hit. Talking began to erupt as a few of the boys knelt down next to the victim. Clarke shot a glare at the kid on the floor.  
"Everybody calm down!" She shouted, which quieted the room considerably. "Here's whats going to happen. We are all going to agree to play nice. Bellamy is going to cook us ALL some food, while you all sit down and behave yourselves. If we can do that without anyone threatening to shoot anyone, i'll patch up your buddy. Okay?" All the boys looked to the guy on the floor, who was glancing around the room as if calculating his options. Clarke glared down at him. "Okay?" She was more forceful this time. The guy on the floor nodded, and so did Clarke. 

"Okay, carry him into the next room, and put him on a table without a bed on it. Octavia, take the crossbow." Octavia nodded and snatched the black weapon from its kidnapper's hands, then followed the procession of people filing into the next room. Clarke caught Bellamy by the arm and pressed the gun into his hand. "If anyone tries anything..." he nodded, and she left him in the kitchen to his task after washing her hands quickly -- she didn't have time to spend interpreting the strange look he was giving her, anyway.

Clarke stalked into the room, where the two groups were settling at tables separate form each other. Octavia stood near the girls, eying the boys distrustfully with her crossbow at the ready. Clarke herself made a beeline for where the two boys were setting their injured friend down on the table. To her relief, she spotted that the injured guy was awake. 

"Excuse me," she said, nudging her way past a long-haired boy to stand on the same side as the wound -- the kid's right side. She leaned down to inspect, noticing a second patch of blood on his arm that wasn't from the first. "Okay! First thing's first, i can tell you right now that this," she pointed to the first, large patch on the right of his lower chest area, "is only a graze. And..." she lifted his arm slightly, and sure enough, there was an exit wound there. He hissed in pain. "the bullet went right through so i won't have to dig it out," she tried to smile reassuringly, then looked to his friend standing closest to her. "I need you to go into the kitchen and ask Bellamy to tell you where the first aid kit is. Quickly. Don't startle him though, he's got the gun." She patted him on the shoulder and he shot her a concerned look before jogging off to his destination.

Clarke gently slid her fingers between his body and his arm and used both her hands to apply pressure to the wound there. "It's Jasper, right? I'm Clarke. I'm gonna need you to stay awake for me, can you do that?"  
The boy had strange features that were somewhere between gaunt and impish when he scrunched up his face. He nodded in response to her. "Yes ma'am."  
Clarke looked up at his friend standing on the other side of the table, looking excessively worried. "Hey, he'll be fine. Can you put pressure on the chest wound?"  
The kid looked at her as he complied, pressing his hands to the injury. "Thanks. I'm Monty, by the way. Sorry about Murphy."  
"Is that the guy with the nose?" Clarke chuckled lightly, and Monty nodded.  
"He kinda surprised us with the hostage thing. We didn't know if there was anyone left alive here."  
"Hey, it's okay," she replied. "You were hungry. I'm sorry someone got shot because of what i did."  
"Someone might have gotten shot anyway," Jasper commented from the table, but further conversation on the subject was promptly interrupted by the second helper arriving with a green box marked 'first aid'. It had been a standard kit, but Clarke had added some extra stuff so they wouldn't have to keep going to the infirmary. 

"Oh! Thank you. Here, take over for me. Put your hands where mine are, and put pressure on it. That's good," She slipped out from under him once her hands were free and dug what she needed out of the kit. "And what do they call you?"  
"His Majesty, usually," the long-haired guy replied, and winked at her. Clarke paused for a moment, then rolled her eyes and continued with her work.  
"They do not," Jasper huffed. "His name is Finn. Finn, this is Dr. Clarke."  
Clarke chuckled and tore the sachet for the disinfectant wipe open. "I'm not a real doctor, it's okay."  
"Wait," Jasper said. "You're not?"  
She rolled his shirt up until it was clear of the wound, with Monty's help. Luckily his sleeve was above the arm wound. "Well you can stitch yourself up if you'd prefer?"

She lifted Finn's first hand away to wipe away the blood from the entry wound as best she could. Then she picked up a syringe and carefully pushed it into his arm. "Local anesthetic," she explained as she set it down to thread her needle. "It will probably still hurt, but not as bad. Try not to move," she said, and he nodded.  
"I'll do my very best."

She was as quick as possible without being sloppy. It took her a little while still, because she was out of practice by a long time. The last time she'd done stitches was overseas, doing aid work with her mom. Back before her mom got her dad put in prison. Back before SHE got into prison. It had been almost a year in this hole, and ten months since she got the news about her dad.

Time to stop thinking about that.

By the time she had finished patching up Jasper and was returning the first aid kit to the kitchen, Bellamy was dishing out what appeared to be a metric fucktonne of packet pumpkin soup, judging by the empty labelled bag sitting on the counter. She always wondered how they made that stuff, since she doubted they were using real pumpkins. Apparently, now she knew. 

"I'm sorry. You guys were gonna go and i ended up making you cook us all soup," Clarke sighed, shuffling up to the sink to wash all the blood off her hands. It was smeared on her shirt as well, but that could wait. As she lowered her arms into the deep sink, she examined the boniness of her arms. They were much better than they had been, since their diet the last few days had been growing in substance and frequency. She fed them all as many carbs and as much fibre as she could. She wasn't sure how the rest of her looked, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Clarke shook her head to chase such thoughts from her head. She had bigger things to worry about -- like getting this blood out from under her fingernails.  
"Yeah, well, the universe intervened. I guess that's for the best. Honestly, i'd probably just end up getting her killed," he said quietly as he spooned the soup into plastic bowls. There wasn't a lot in each, but it was as much as they could spare.  
"That's not true." Clarke knew he was a bit of a dick, but she'd be lying if she said he wasn't capable. "You trekked all the way here to find her. You wouldn't let anything happen to her, i know it."  
"Yeah, well you don't know much then. I already fucked up once," he growled, glancing sidelong at her. When she threw him a worried look, he sighed. "She was arguing with me this morning, partly because i told her Mom died."  
"Oh.... Bellamy. I'm sorry," Clarke said softly, shuffling backwards a little. Suddenly, she felt as though she was deeper into this conversation than she ever wanted to be.  
"I kept putting off telling her because i thought she wouldn't come with me, 'cause i let that happen. But that's selfish right, because it's better for both of us if we're with other people." 

Clarke took the soup ladle from his hand, since he'd stopped spooning the soup into the bowls anyway. "It's not selfish. You want to protect her and you don't wanna be distracted from that. I get it. But trust me, you're not selfish."  
"I considered staying, because if the infected got in they'd go for the weak ones first and i might have time to get O' out," he blurted.  
Clarke paused and set down the spoon. She put the heels of her hands on the edge of the counter and sighed. "I knew the virus was coming."

Bellamy went silent, a million thoughts seeming to rush through his head. "What do you mean, you knew it was coming?"  
"I knew it was coming. It's why...." She swallowed. "It's why i'm in prison. Dad was part of the Secret Service. He found out about this plan they had, to release a virus on the population of the world to bring the numbers down. They'd pretend it was a fake soda company who did it, prosecute people who don't exist, and the world moves on. He was going to blow the whistle but they caught him before he could. They framed him for taking classified and top secret data, he went to court. My mom... didn't do anything. She let them. So i was going to speak out for him but they got me too. I got thrown in here without trial. Less than two months later, my dad conveniently dies of a heart attack in custody."  
"Clarke," Bellamy said carefully, "You knew they were gonna start this? This is barbaric. Why didn't you say something? Get the word out?"  
"And who would have believed me? My own mother wouldn't have backed me up. They kept finding reasons to put me in solitary so i would have less chances to talk to people!" She snapped, whispering harshly. She didn't need anyone else to hear this. "Plus it wasn't supposed to be as contagious as it is... and people weren't supposed to go insane. I don't know how it happened. It was supposed to die off after the third generation of contagion but it seems it's had... different effects than they anticipated."  
"Shit," he breathed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "That's fucked up."  
"I know."  
"Nobody knew."  
"I'm sorry."

There was a long pause. He reached forward, rolling up the roller door that closed off the kitchen from the dining hall, but acted as a counter when open. People began to stand and make their way over, and Bellamy said, without looking at her, "I guess... you don't have to be. It wasn't your fault. It doesn't make you a bad person."  
"If i'm not a bad person," Clarke picked up the ladle and began dishing out the soup again to keep up with demand, "then neither are you. Okay?"  
He made a sound that was almost like a laugh -- a sort of incredulous snort -- but when she glanced at him, he was smiling ever so slightly, the corners of his lips curling upwards against his will. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for mistakes, i wrote this up in a bit of a rush!


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey so, what's the deal with that chick? She's been asleep nearly this whole time," Finn asked Clarke, the night they had arrived. Her eyes drifted to the motionless form of one of the girls.  
"She was the last to wake up," Clarke explained. "After the outbreak started, anyone locked in their cells didn't have anyone around to feed them. So eventually the infected lost interest and wandered out into the open for more accessible food."  
"But the guard let you out, right? Is that girl his girlfriend or something?" Finn asked, gesturing subtly to where Bellamy sat reading a book next to where Octavia napped at a table.  
"No! God no. That's his sister, and he's not a guard, he just didn't pack any clothes." Clarke chuckled softly, turning to sit with her back to the siblings, to encourage Finn to make it less obvious they were talking about them.

Finn was a pretty cool guy. She didn't get much of a first impression, since she'd been too busy patching up Jasper to pay Finn much mind that morning. She had then accidentally nearly dropped his soup as she handed it over the counter and he'd made fun of her for it. She'd tried not to laugh, and he'd been following her around since. Not that he was much of a burden, but he liked to show off a bit around girls. 

"So how long were you guys in there?"  
"Nearly three weeks," Clarke shrugged. "Lucky he came when he did. Most of the trapped ones were in really bad condition if they weren't already dead. Another girl we brought up died anyway, but other than that we've been okay. What about you guys?"  
"Atom pickpocketed a Zombie guard for his keys and we bunkered down in the cafeteria for a few days. We thought they all cleared out after a while, so we went looking for shit like med supplies, more clothes, places nearby to shower. Turns out there was a crowd of the suckers out in the yard and like the morons we are, we let em' in. There were too mamy to take on, so naturally we ran until Murphy had the bright idea to trap them in the cafeteria and lock them in."

Clarke could piece the rest together herself. "And then you came here."  
"And then we came here," he affirmed, stretching out in his chair. 

"Where do you think we'll go once food runs out? After you guys are better, i mean." His question made her raise an eyebrow.  
"I wasn't aware there was any 'us' going on here," she chuckled.  
Finn seemed to almost blush at that, though he took the defensive path. "Well, i don't know. It makes sense, doesn't it? One group of guys, one groups of gals. All of us problem children. Makes sense, right?"  
"First of all, cliches are no way to argue your point. Second, you guys tried to rob us when you first showed up!" Though she suspected there were no real hard feelings there.  
"Hey! None of you even ended up shot," he defended quickly.  
"Plus, your cliche doesn't even work because our group of girls has a dude in it who is also not even a criminal," she shrugged, then caught herself with a frown. "I think..."  
"You mean grandpa over there? He's totally nuts. He caught Atom flirting with his sister earlier and threatened to lock him in solitary."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh, though she did feel really really sorry for Octavia. Her pool of potential boyfriend candidates was just drastically narrowed via apocalypse and she had Bellamy watching her like a hawk.

"Well, i don't know. The last girl to wake up was about a week after everyone else. It will be another ten days or so until we can safely move her by vehicle or slowly by foot, and we don't have substantial food to last everyone here that long. I mean, soup is fine but i'm thinking we need to get supplies from somewhere. Drive into a town or something. It'll help stock up for when we do move."  
"Really? But how are we going to do that? Who would you take?" Clarke thought hard about his question.  
"Bellamy. He's oldest and is the only practised driver. I'd take one of your group too as a solidarity thing. And i'd take Murphy because i don't trust him."  
"Enemies closer?" He chuckled, and she smiled knowingly.  
"I'd leave Jasper and Monty in charge with Octavia and Harper. They'll keep everyone in check."  
"What, not me? I'm hurt, Princess." Clarke tensed at the nickname, glancing quickly at him.  
"Don't call me that. It's cliche."  
"Why not? I think it suits you."

"What suits her?" They both turned to see Bellamy standing on the other side of the table their backs were against, his palms on the cold metal.  
"Princess," Finn pointed to her as if introducing her, and she groaned. Fin. Laughed and Bellamy raised an eyebrow.  
"Rich parents, blonde, bossy.... yeah i can see that." Bellamy's agreement only made her frown more. She opted to change the subject quickly.

"We need to go on a supply run. You, Finn and Murphy are coming." Clarke stated it like it was already decided, and if Bellamy was annoyed by it, he didn't comment.  
"We bring Octavia," he demanded.  
"No, she needs to take care of things here. Plus she will be safer."  
"Fine," Bellamy huffed. "Then we take Atom."  
"Fine," Clarke sighed.  
"I hope the truck has room for food and five people," Finn commented quietly, earning himself an unexpected glare from Bellamy in response.  
"Of course it does, or i wouldn't have suggested the fifth," he said in a low voice, then moved away from the table. "We leave at dawn in two days. We can last until then."  
"Yes sir," Finn mock saluted when he walked away. 

Clarke stretched and yawned, arching back in her seat. "Its getting late and i'm gonna start getting the girls to do some physical activity tomorrow. I think i'll hit the sack." She stood and waved goodnight, but stopped herself in her tracks. "Oh, and all the spare bedding is on that table behind Murphy and Miller. Take whatever you guys need."  
Finn gave her a funny look then, that made her look away quickly. "Thanks, Princess," he muttered as she walked away.

//

The next day was pretty good for Clarke. While at first, Finn had been a laid-back mosquito that followed her around, it took her only the space of yesterday to warm up to him. She knew she was being stupid when she blushed at his teasing and laughed a little too genuinely at his bad jokes; she blamed it on pent up tension from being incarcerated so long. 

She knew for a fact that one of the girls had already hooked up with someome because she had asked Clarke if having sex just after your period was safe. So it wasn't like the bar hadn't already been set, right? Who would blame her? He was cute, and he was obviously interested (he wasn't exactly subtle) so the only thing that really stopped her that day was lack of opportunity. As much as she talked up not being blamed for her urges, she didn't exactly want to announce it.

Another thing that seemed to be catching on that days was her nickname. By noon, three people had called her Princess. While it was usually friendly, she didn't like the way some people used it. She was happier without it, but if she complained they would only sink their heels into the dirt on the subject, so she endured.

All participants of the food retrieval mission agreed without a lot of opposition. They agreed that they didn't need to take food since they would find it. Though Octavia was annoyed that Bellamy was taking Atom with them (his motivations for which were perfectly transparent,) she agreed without argument to take care of things. Town was relatively far, and their plan was to leave in the morning, park somewhere discreet, and from there, one larger group would go to the supermarket to get food, while the other pair would head to the pharmacy to get medical supplies. They would rendezvous at the car two hours after setting out, and drive back. Easy. 

In the afternoon, Clarke had the girls she deemed fit enough jogging back and forth across the back of the room, stooping to touch the base of each wall. Though most couldn't do so for long, she encouraged Octavia to keep them on it while they were on their trip.

And in the evening, Clarke sat up talking with Finn until someone shouted at them to shut up and go to sleep. 

//

"Hey, you think anyone needs anti-fungal cream?" Finn joked from across the pharmacy.  
"I know you're kidding, but put one tube in just to be safe," she sighed, not looking up from the behind-the-counter box she was examining.  
Finn chuckled and dropped it in the backpack he was holding. "Whatever you say, Princess."

Clarke looked up and turned, taking in a sharp breath. "Why do you call me that?" She demanded, hands on her hips. When he turned to look at her, she squared her shoulders.  
"Everyone calls you that," he pointed out.  
Clarke was well aware, and it didn't sway her. "You started it."

Finn walked up to the counter and leaned on it with his elbows, facing her on the other side. He studied her for a long moment, though thankfully he spoke just before she shied away. "It suits you," he said simply. "Why, because i'm bossy?" "Because i think you're important and i think you're perfect." Clarke swallowed and began to be very interested in the box she was holding again. "I'm not perfect," she muttered in reply. Though, his words still warmed her. It was nice to have some kind of affection directed towards her after so long without it. So, impulsively, she blurted out: "We'll probably be finished way before the others." He was silent for a long moment. She could feel the blood rush to her face in that moment, almost immediately embarassed by her words. So it was a relief when he replied in a low, soft voice. "Then we better kill some time."

//

"What took you guys so long?" Bellamy demanded when Clarke and Finn walked up to the car. Finn opened his mouth, but Clarke slapped him lightly on the thigh to silence him and let her do the talking.

"I forgot the names of some medicines we might need. I had to dig out the manuals from the booklets to read up and find the right ones. It paid off." She lifted one of the backpacks, heavy with supplies including lots and lots of bandages, disinfectant, plasters, creams, ointments, and a good supply of contraceptives -- being careful to leave the box they had opened behind -- because abstinence was not an effective method by any means.

Apparently persuaded to leave it be, Bellamy shrugged. But he had other matters to discuss. "Supermarket was kinda looted but we got a pretty good supply anyway," he muttered as he began to pile their bags into the back of the truck. There was a lot of food -- pretty good was an understatement. "And, we picked up a few people as well. Couple of engineering students from the university."  
"What?" Finn blurted, suddenly frowning.  
"Did i stutter?" Bellamy sighed. "Actually, one of them said she was lookin' for--"  
"Finn!"

A girl shreiked and ran from the other side of the truck, with a blonde guy around Bellamy's age following at a more calm pace behind her. She took a running jump to hug Finn, who only looked surprised for a moment before he hugged her back tightly.  
"Raven? I thought you were dead!" He gasped, when she released him. She only stared at him and shook her head tearfully. Then, to the awkwardness of everyone presence and the absolute horror of Clarke, he kissed her. On the mouth.

Fantastic.

Clarke didn't stick around for the rest of that reunion, suddenly very busy with packing the supplies. She didn't speak a word until they were piling into the car.

She wasn't sure why she was upset. Why she thought her actions with a guy she had known for two days meant she was entitled to be mad when he turned out to have a girlfriend. Mostly she was mad at herself for causing that girl what could only be pain if she found out. And for making sure she would have to struggle with herself as to whether or not she should tell her what he'd done with her.

She might throw up.

"Okay we can't all fit, so someone's gonna have to sit on someone's lap. The lovebirds are a given but Clarke should--" Murphy, who was driving on the account that Bellamy decided he wanted to snipe from the passenger window instead, was cut off by Clarke.  
"No, i'll sit in the back. Just don't drive like a maniac," she huffed, already pulling herself into the tray of the pickup.  
"That's not really safe, Princess," Murphy muttered, but she obly glared.  
"Who's gonna stop me? Cops?" 

She settled in and everyone else piled into the car. There was enough room near the back of the truck, placing her thankfully furthest away from the other passengers. She would have time to stew in her thoughts there. 

"Shove over," was the only warning she got from Bellamy before he launched himself into the tray next to her. She sighed and gave him a look that hopefully told him to go away, though it was useless as the truck started moving.  
"What do you want?" She muttered, folding her arms as he readied his crossbow for scouting.  
"Not to be in a car with people i hate," he shrugged.  
"So you don't hate me?" She tilted her head, though couldn't find it in herself to smile.  
"I only dislike you," he chuckled.

The ride was mostly quiet after that. Except for one short exchange, where Bellamy suddenly said "Your top is on backwards. The little embroidered thing is on the back instead of the front." His tone was innocent at first, as he obviously didn't realize the implications of this right away.  
Clarke stiffened, and said nothing. In her silence she could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Oh," he muttered in realization, and she avoided his gaze because she knew she might cry or scream if she saw him pitying her. "Ouch, Princess."

He left her alone after that, though she could see him glance at her occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Probably thought it was funny, that she'd been played. The bossy Princess, of all people, must have deserved that. Why else would it happen to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the minor Finn/Clarke, i promise the Bellarke is happening slowly haha. From here on any Finn/Clarke will be one-sided


	5. Chapter 5

Despite feeling like she might die of humiliation on the car ride home, seeing people's faces light up when that passed around actual how chocolate that night did wonders for Clarke's mood. Nobody questioned why she was suddenly giving Finn the cold shoulder -- her motivations were plain enough to most who cared to notice. She was glad they spared her having to explain, thus leaving her in peace to enjoy warm, sweet drinks and the company of Monty and Jasper, who were quickly growing on her, as they sat around a table with Octavia and Harper.

"I'd probably watch Bill and Ted," Jasper decided, to the objection of the others at the table. "What? If I could only watch one more movie before I died i'd want it to be a fun one," he shrugged defensively.  
"No, no, no, no, i'd totally watch something awful like Alien vs Predator or Birdemic!" Monty cut in, earning himself noises of disgust from the rest of the table. "What? If I saw one of those movies i'd feel glad knowing i'd die without ever having made something so bad."  
"I would probably watch Cinderella, I used to love it as a kid," Harper said quietly, and Octavia seemed to agree with her.  
"Yeah! But i'd watch High School Musical. I used to have the biggest crush on Troy Bolton as a kid. First crush..." She trailed off dreamily, and Clarke burst into giggles.  
"Embarrassingly enough," Clarke sighed, "I know all of the words to every song in that movie. But to be honest, if we were about to die and it was my turn to pick the movie, i'd just play a bunch of songs for an hour instead. Party hard and all that, right? But like, all those songs that everyone invariably knows the words to. How many people can say they got eaten by zombies while they sang some Proclaimers?"  
"That song is invariably the worst. If we're going for classic everyone-sings songs, it's Bohemian Rhapsody for sure," Harper tapped the table with a finer as if to emphasise her point. Monty agreed with her.  
"What? We're about to die, doesn't mean we have to sing about dying! Footloose is where it's at," Octavia demanded, and after glaring at Clarke, she forced a nod from the reluctant blonde.  
"She's right," Clark shrugged, and they all burst out into laughter. 

"God I would kill to break out the ole' acoustic right now, bro," Jasper nudged Monty. As Clarke recently learned, the two were partners in crime from the beginning, and were a few weeks off completing their six month sentence for brewing alcohol while underage and distributing it when the whole shitstorm hit. Aside from whipping up part elixir, they also wrote songs together. Monty was the guitarist, but they both sang 'like angels' -- their words, not Clarke's.  
"Maybe when we move on, we'll find you one, and you can show us all that talent you brag about," Octavia downed the last of her hot chocolate like a shot while the boys exchanged hopeful glances.

"So you're not leaving then?" Clarke suddenly asked the younger Blake, who shrugged.  
"To be honest, I don't think Bellamy was too sold on the idea since I wasn't. After we got some more company I guess he figured we were safer here after all."  
"He's right though," She admitted. Winter was already starting to bite. They didn't have long to start moving far south enough that any snow they got wasn't going to be permanent. And where would they go? "Maybe we can stick to the coast, move toward Florida... go through DC and see if there's any sort of shelters going on there? There's so many options and none are safest," Clarke rubbed her temples, suddenly feeling tired. She felt a hand rest on her forearm, and cracked her fingers apart to see Octavia smiling softly.  
"Hey, you're not alone on this. We'll figure it out. I mean, if anyone got their act together fastest, it's DC, right?" Clarke swallowed. She could be almost certain that the White House and Pentagon were safe. She was less certain they would let a bunch of criminals inside, but she had one feeble card to play there. The question was whether she wanted to play it.  
"I hope so..." was all she could say. "Anyway, we'll talk it over in the morning. We should all get some rest." 

Clarke stood, leaving her plastic cup where it was, and muttered a quiet goodnight before slinking off to bed. She wasn't alone on the decision, but her input alone could get people killed. She tried not to think about that.

//

"Really, we should have left days ago. There's a bus here, we could easily fit all of us on it." Bellamy sat quietly at the table with Clarke and Murphy. While the guy was undoubtedly the creepiest motherfucker still alive, he still deserved a say. As for him and Clarke, nobody had ever really decided who was more bossy so they sort of settled into a sort of weird partnership of decision making. He'd never questioned it too hard and he wasn't about to start.  
"None of us knows how to drive a bus, Clarke," Bellamy pointed out softly, but Murphy had other ideas.  
"Hey, don't speak too soon. My dad was a bus driver, it ain't that hard. It's like a big car," Murphy shrugged. No big deal.  
"Besides," Clarke added, "It's more like a big-ish courtesy bus. It's like a 25 seater, nothing like a coach. We'd fit almost perfectly."  
"And we can take the truck too, in case we need to run into towns for supplies," Murphy added. Bellamy sighed and shifted his weight, then nodded.  
"Fine, but we take another car. There's no way we'll fit enough stuff for 25 people in one pickup and a tiny bus," he reasoned, and the other two agreed without argument.

"Next on the agenda, then," Murphy announced, stretching in his seat. "Where do we go?"  
"Well Bellamy thinks south, to avoid the worst of the winter. I tend to agree with him..." Clarke began.  
"But?"  
"But we should go through DC on the way. If anywhere has a safehouse for survivors and got their shit together, it's the capital, right? I know its not really safe to go through a main city like that given this situation..." She looked conflicted, like there was something she wanted to tell them. "But it's the best chance we've got before having to do this on our own. I think we should check it out, see if there are any signs of survivors."

The two boys took a moment to consider it. Bellamy didn't like it. If there was some Presidential safehouse going on, why would they let a bunch of delinquents in? But she was right about there being a chance, and it was a chance they should at least try to look into. He voiced his agreement, and with obvious reluctance, so did Murphy.

"And if there aren't any there?" Murphy asked.  
"Then we stay in the cars and keep driving south. We can either stick to the coast and bunker down in a small down or head into gun-toting country, where we're probably more likely to find more reliable weapons. Maybe even find another prison or some paranoid person's bunker."  
Bellamy nodded. She wasn't wrong. "We should leave as soon as possible. It's already October," he pointed out. Not that a car trip would take them that long, but he had to allow for things not going their way. The could have to walk some of that way, and he wasn't going to leave the trip until the last minute like that.

"We need a list of stuff to pack. Figure out if we need to go back into town for anything..."  
There was a moment of contemplative silence, which Bellamy broke. "We probably should of thought of this before we ran into town in the first place."

Murphy didn't find the 'joke' more deserving than a quick smirk, but Clarke smiled like it escaped her face before she could stop it and rolled her eyes. She said something in reply, but Bellamy was too distracted by how lighthearted she was being. It wasn't even funny, what he'd said. All of that day and the night before she'd gotten back after their unfortunate day trip and hung around her quickly growing little group, laughing like the whole... thing... had never happened. He was begrudgingly impressed. He felt like a traitor to his social class for even daring to be impressed by her putting on a brave face, but hell. She'd been to prison, and Octavia nagged him every time he complained about her to be nice to her. And he wasn't the kind of dude to get all hurt over bump and dumps, but he could imagine why she didn't take kindly to the way hers played out. So yeah, if you held a gun to his head, MAYBE he'd go so far as to say she was a pretty tough kid.

Still annoying though.

"Bellamy?" He snapped out of that train of thought when she called to him. Luckily, he'd been blankly staring at the paper she was scrawling on and not her. He made a confused grunt, and she rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, pay attention. I said, should we just pack clothes from the prison and wear those, or stop somewhere to get normal clothes?"  
He frowned. Definitely still annoying. "It'll take time but we should definitely stop somewhere. We don't wanna be asking people for shelter while wearing orange sweatpants and obviously stolen guard uniforms."  
"Great, expect i'm guessing anywhere with a mall is going to be pretty populated with dead guys."  
"They're not dead," Clarke said as she took notes, and Murphy frowned at her.  
"What do you mean they're not dead? Of course they're dead, they're zombies."

"Well, i guess they're dead in the sense that, from what i've observed, they don't seem to be bothered by pain if they feel it, but there's definitely some level of brain activity. I'd guess that the virus just kills most brain functions and probably heavily reduces blood iron so they're reduced to basic senses and motor functions and a really intense craving for meat. If i'm right, that also means it's entirely possible to starve one if you cut off its food supply effectively. But they are still, technically, human. That's my theory anyway." She hummed as she kept writing, and it took her a few seconds to look up and notice they were staring at her. Murphy looked disgusted, and Bellamy imagined he looked as disturbed as he felt. "What?"  
"Well, it's just.... i killed... i killed a bunch of them. I never stopped to think of them as people." Bellamy muttered. "My mom was right. I do watch too many movies."  
"Fuck, dude. Don't beat yourself up about it. It was self defense!"  
"It's still a person, Murphy. He's allowed to feel bad about it."  
"No, he's right. We can't risk feeling bad for them. They can't feel bad for us," Bellamy sighed, and Murphy held out his hands to Bellamy as if to gesture 'see!?'  
"Not their fault," Clarke muttered, looking back down at her paper in dismay.  
"What's wrong Princess? It's hardly murder when they're barely people anymore. And besides, who's gonna stop us? Cops?"

She glared at him like she thought he was a smartass for throwing her words back at her. Thankfully, she decided to drop it rather than push the issue.

"We're likely to find some small rural community center somewhere. It's Vermont. This is like the least populated state in the country. We can handle the locals easily. We'll ditch the uniforms there and move on." She put down her pen, examining her list. It included all of the food and bedding they had, and all the medical supplies. So basically all they had. "We'll basically take the highways, follow the road signs, and avoid populated areas right up until DC. We drive by likely survivor camp locations, if we see them we attempt to join. If there are none, we move south along the coast until we find a safe enough place to hole up."  
"Sounds simple enough to me," Murphy shrugged, and stood from his seat. "Is that all? Like i appreciate you guys inviting me in on Princess Arthurs the round table and all that but this shit bores me pretty quick."  
Clarke looked like she was about to object, but waved a dismissive hand. "Go on then," she sighed tiredly, and he backed away with a mock salute.

Bellamy didn't move, just sat there and furrowed his brow while she drew an endless circle in one corner of the writing pad. She seemed totally out of it already, not even changing the pattern or where the circle was, just drawing it in the same place over and over. She was smiley enough, but when she was in her own space she seemed troubled. Her absentness wasn't complete though, because it only took her about thirty seconds to say, quite coldly, "Do you need something?"

He swallowed thickly, suddenly cold. But his curiosity got the better of him. "So are you actually happy, or do you just pretend when those guys are around so they won't ask you what's up?"  
Suddenly, her blue eyes darted up from her drawing pad to glare at him. "If you think i'm so weak that i'm going to fall into a pit of despair because a guy two timed his girlfriend with me, you're sorely mistaken. I'm happy around them because they make me happy. I'm grumpy when i sit for an hour planning a mass migration of teenagers which is almost guaranteed to end in casualties and it will be my fault."  
"Our fault," he corrected quietly. She deflated slightly then, as if she was trying not to allow that to comfort her. "Are you trying to tell me you're not the least bit upset about it?"  
"No, because i AM upset about it. Who wouldn't be? He was only into me until he realized his prettier girlfriend wasn't dead. And now i'm not sure if i should tell her!" Clarke huffed and leaned over the table, tucking her nose into the crook of her elbow so her words were muffled.   
"If it makes you feel any better, he's been staring at you like an abandoned puppy when she wasn't looking ever since we got back. You're not as unloved as you think."  
"Ugh! How dare he...." she trailed off and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't look like she slept very well, either. "Stop pitying me. It's embarrassing."

"What? I'm not pitying you. I'm just being nice," he blurted defensively, doing his best to keep his voice controlled to the low volume they were speaking at by whispering harshly.   
"Has hell frozen over too?" She snapped. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned over the table to squint at him. "Did Octavia put you up to this? You haven't told her have you?"  
"Oh my god." He threw his hands up in disbelief. "You're impossible. Is it really so hard to believe that i'm trying to make you feel better here? Sometimes i feel like you just lash out at me when you're stressed because i'm the easiest one to be mad at."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes darting between his like she was reading lines in a book, trying to see his thoughts. He was very suddenly aware that they were leaning rather conspicuously close over the table to whisper furiously at each other, and now that she was quiet the lack of space became uncomfortable. Too abruptly, he sat up straight, earning him a strange look from her. If she noticed his embarrassment, she was nice enough not to comment. 

"I'm sorry," she murmured tiredly. "Being an ass aside, you've been nothing but helpful. I couldn't have pulled all this off alone, so..."  
"Is that a thank you i hear?" He teased, and she looked like she was battling a smile off her face.  
"Don't get used to it," she warned.  
"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess."  
"And you know i only hang out with you when i don't feel like being around people I actually like," she added.  
He smiled the most shit-eating grin he could muster. "I'm honored by your company, your highness."  
"Stop with the Princess shit!" She groaned and threw back her head to try and hide her laugh. It didn't work.  
"You should know that my urge to say 'as you wish' is so strong right now. So me instead telling you that i am never going to stop with the princess shit is a testament to my incredible resolve, on not stopping with the princess shit." Apparently, Clarke had given up altogether on trying to look mad and instead resorted to sighing in exasperation and throwing her pencil at him. 

"This looks jovial!" Jasper suddenly plopping himself down onto the seat next to Bellamy startled him out of flailing with the pencil, and it dropped to the floor. Clarke cringed, and both he and Jasper raised their eyebrows in question.  
"When you drop a pencil all the lead inside it cracks and sharpening it is a neverending nightmare," she explained.  
"Oh yeah, you draw and stuff, right?" Octavia sidled up next to her on the other side of the table, and while nobody else spotted it, Bellamy didn't miss the very subtle eyebrow-waggle she threw his way. He lowered his brows and mouthed 'as if' to her, and she rolled her eyes.  
"Yeah, to pass the time," Clarke shrugged, and Jasper leaned down to pick the pencil up off the floor. He rolled it across the table at her, and she caught it against the surface with her ring finger.   
"Draw me!" He challenged, and Octavia quickly followed, then suggested she draw Bellamy as well.  
Clarke politely declined. "No, no, i'm more the kind of person who studies every detail of your face when you're not looking and sketches you later. So when i die you'll find all these creepily accurate portraits," she actually giggled then, and added "Besides, the pencil is a neverending nightmare now, remember?"

The conversation went on, and somewhere after the topic of highschool was breached, Bellamy removed himself from the table. He would only feel weird and old sitting next to them, though if he was truthful with himself, they didn't seem all that young most of the time. Maybe it was because looking after yourself and being responsible for others makes you grow up real fast -- he knew all about that. Instead he made his way to the kitchen to start on some form of food. They tried to have dinner pretty early, since they didn't have the electricity to eat in the dark. To his dismay, he found Finn in the kitchen when he got there.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and the boy looked up from lighting up the gas stove with a match like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He had pasta and tomato paste out with some mince.  
"Making a bigass batch of spaghetti," he replied, once he'd regained his composure.   
Bellamy wasn't impressed. He was only grumpy because he was grumpy at everyone, though. Not because he hated the kid for being a little prick or anything. "That's usually my job," he replied plainly, folding his arms and leaning against the door frame.  
"Yeah, well i have a favor to ask of you. You're pretty buddy buddy with Clarke, right? Can you tell her that i'm sorry and that i need to talk to--"  
"I'm not going to be your messenger pigeon, kid. She doesn't wanna talk to you."  
"I know," Finn looked genuinely distressed then, and Bellamy fought to urge to feel sorry for the kid. "I know. I did something pretty bad but... she's amazing. I can't stop--"  
"No, your girlfriend who trekked all this way on foot to see you is amazing. What the hell is wrong with you? You've known this girl for like three days. She's bossy and entitled and jumps to conclusions. You thought your girlfriend was dead? Tough, she's not. Deal with the consequences yourself. This mess is on you, not Clarke," Bellamy interrupted icily. Quickly as it had come, the despairing look turned to anger.

"What's your problem? I just wanna apologize to her! How is that not taking responsibility?"   
"Because she'd rather just forget about it. The best thing you can do right now is let her. Or even better, tell your girlfriend what you did with 'Princess' so she doesn't have to stress about doing it herself," Bellamy growled. He stepped further into the room, so his side of the argument wouldn't carry into the main hall.   
Finn lowered his voice too, seething. "You don't know shit. She hates you anyway." Bellamy succeeded in not flinching at that. It stung more than he intended it to, but he'd have time to worry about that later. And, why don't you get another nickname for her. That one's mine."  
"I will when you get another girl who actually likes you. Oh wait! You already have one. In which case you don't wanna be the only one calling another girl Princess, soooo..." Bellamy shrugged an exaggerated 'oh well' gesture as he backed towards the door. "But hey, thanks for cookin', buddy."

He shouldn't feel so good after having ripped into the kid. He really really shouldn't. But he did, and damn did it feel wonderful. Sure, Clarke would be mad if she knew he'd white-knighted her like that. But it's not like he did it for her. He did it for... teaching Finn a lesson. That could have been Octavia he'd messed with! It was the principle of the... yeah he was ruining the moment trying to think too hard about it. In the end he went back to his bed, whipped out his worn copy of 'The Odyssey' and rewarded himself for a long day of interacting with people by lying in a corner and ignoring them for the next few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any errors, i wrote this while pretty tired. Thanks for all your kudos and comments! It means a lot to me :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD DAMNITTY DAMN okay so this is a super short chapter and I apologize for that, but no less than three times have I gone to continue writing this and some turn of events has caused me to lose what i've written. Two of those times I was doing my obsessive tab culling and accidentally closed the tab. The other time I didn't notice my laptop wasn't on charge (its so old now it dies in about ten minutes) and it kicked it. So its been ages and I figure I may as well break this damn curse and post what i've got. Which is okay, because the next section was going to be them leaving and looking for a place to get clothes and supplies and it felt a little tacked on after the more climatic events toward the end of this chapter. 
> 
> tl;dr: I tried to write more of this chapter, kept losing my work, thought 'fuck it,' and now here's a short chapter six.

Clarke huddled with her hands shoved firmly into her armpits in a feeble attempt to battle the cold chill of the morning air. It bit at her nose with every breath of wind and had her hopping from toe-to-toe while she waited for Murphy to bring the other car around.

She didn't know the time, but if she could hazard a guess she would say it was around 6am. The sky hung with the murky grey of pre-dawn light in late autumn and it would have been beauiful, if she wasn't freezing.

The low hum of an engine drew her attention to the black minivan Murphy was pulling up next to the bus, just behind Bellamy's pickup. She nodded her approval of his choice, and he responded with his usual enthusiam (zero). They would be able to fit a lot of supplies in the van, which would shelter the supplies better than the tray of Bellamy's car would.

"We probably didn't need to be up so early to do this," Murphy commented, upon seeing Monty, Harper and Finn load the last of the food into the storage locker of the bus. The bulkier load of bedding would be loaded into the minivan's extra space and into the bus to avoid getting it wet where possible. Trash bags were packed into the pickup in preparation for storing spare clothes, along with a tarp they'd salvaged, any and all empty bags they could stock up on, and two trash bags full of toilet paper. There was a first aid kit in every vehicle, patched together by Clarke, but the bulk of the med supplies would stay in whatever vehicle Clarke was in, for ease. It wouldn't take that long to pack it all, but there was no harm in being up early.

"Yeah, probably not, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. Besides, it'll be a nice surprise! Everyone is going to wake up to all the work done and ready to hit the road!" She sighed, watching a cloud of her breath fade into the chilly air. Truthfully, she needed to get something before they left. It was imperative that she not leave without it. "Watch over all this will you? I need to wake up Blake," she was already walking off as she finished her sentence. As she passed the bus to walk back into the kitchens though, she stopped and turned back.

"Finn," she said, holding her chin high as he turned his head of shaggy hair her way. When she had woken him that morning, he looked hopeful that she was trying to reconcile. She wasn't intending to, but she had thought about it, and thought it worth it. "I need your help. We have to check the warden's office before we leave,"  
He seemed at a loss for words and opted to simply follow her silently instead. 

They picked their way quietly through the hall of sleeping people. Clarke gently woke Jasper to seal the door after them, and he complied to wait near the door for them. She led the way through the halls of the prison, as she knew the way best. It didn't take them long to reach the warden's office with the master key handy, and Finn watched the door with Bellamy's bat in hand while Clarke searched the drawers and filing cabinets desperately. 

"What are you really looking for?" Finn suddenly asked. Apparently, he'd caught on fairly quickly that they were there for a reason.  
"When i first got here, i snuck something in with me. The warden was an okay lady. She said she'd keep it for me until i was let out. Then there was a new warden and she came to me on her last day, and said she hid it in some files so he wouldn't throw it out," she explained, as she dug down the back of each drawer.  
"What was it?" He asked her softlt, and she looked up at him then.  
"A old watch my dad gave me as a kid. It probably doesn't even work anymore. But its special."  
"Where is he now?"  
Clarke paused in her search and swallowed thickly only to resume her search after a beat. "I don't really like to talk about it," she said softly. "I hope you understand."  
"Yeah, no, i get it," he nodded and got back to watching the door.

As she searched the cabinets, Finn stayed quiet only a few minutes until the conversation she had been dreading came up. 

"Clarke, i'm sorry," he heaved, as if a weight was lifting off his chest. And onto hers, judging by the rock forming in her windpipe. "What i did was a shitty thing, but don't think for a second i didn't care about you."  
"Finn, it's fine. Don't get all attached, okay? That's not what it was supposed to be."  
"Then what was it?" He sounded almost desperate and she pushed away her guilt.  
"Just stress releif. We're friends, Finn, but you need to let this go."

She heard him move a few steps closer as her hand circled around the familiar shape of cold metal and worn leather. She didn't feel the joy she should have upon being reunited with it -- she only felt dread.

"Clarke, i know that's not true and so do you. Can you at least not lie? Just tell me you feel the same. That's all i need and i--"  
Clarke stood, clutching her dad's watch like a lifeline. "I'm sorry Finn. I can't do that, because i would be lying to you. If you feel any real remorse for what you've done, you'll tell Raven what you did."  
"Clarke..."  
She held up a hand to silence him. "Please, Finn. You're a cool guy. Full of yourself, but cool. Don't ruin what friendship i'm still willing to have with you. Please?" 

He stared at her, quietly searching her face, then nodded in defeat. She smiled sadly and put a hand on his shoulder. "Please tell her, Finn. It's the right thing to do."

He didn't say anything as they began their walk back, but she felt like maybe they had made some progress. Maybe, with time, he'd accept it a little easier. And until then--

Clarke screamed as she felt a hand clamp around her leg. On the short staircase down to the solitary cells, an infected girl with a bone sticking out of her leg was snapping at Clarke's ankle. 

Reeling with adrenaline, she lashed out and kicked the girl in the middle of the head with the other foot, sending her infectious, snapping jaws reeling away from her foot. 

Finn was on it a second later. He took the bat and rammed the blunt end of it into the girl's shoulder to flip her onto her back, and then brought it down again on her face. He hit her right on the nose, and her face crumpled with a sickening crunch. She stopped struggling.

The cafeteria wasn't far, so Jasper had come running at the sound of screams. Despite her distress, she scolded him for leaving the others exposed with the door open, and ushered the boys back inside with shaking hands.

More people were already awake, rubbing sleep from their eyes after being woken by the commotion. Bellamy was already up with the crossbow trained at the door, and didn't relax until the door was jammed again.

"What happened!?" He demanded, at least having the sense not to loudly make a fuss. Octavia was behind him, squinting tiredly while she followed the conversation.  
"A zombie grabbed Clarkes ankle," Finn explained shakily, and Bellamy joined Clarke on the floor where she was inspecting her ankle.  
"Were you bitten?" He asked her, and it took a moment to reply because he was speaking in such a low voice that it was almost gentle despite the urgency behind it. She apparently took too long, because he took her shoulder and shook it.  
"No! No, she... she didn't get me. Her legs were broken, i think she fell down the stairs and crawled back up. I didn't see her there..." she gulped, and exhaled slowly. "I'm fine, it just rattled me. I'm not bitten."

Bellamy helped her stand, then glared at the three of them. "What the hell were you doing out there anyway?" he demanded, and she didn't miss the accusation in his voice. She also knew she needed to snub that concern quickly. Clarke lifted her palm to show him the threadbare, dusty old watch in her hand.  
"My dad gave it to me," she explained softly. She watched him examine it for a moment.  
"Don't ever just wander off like that again. Someone could have died," he warned, making her feel like more of a child than ever.  
"Sorry."

She felt the present company collectively sigh in relief when he walked away, and Octavia was quick to get to examining the watch. Finn dissappeared when he spotted Raven sitting up in bed across the hall, and Clarke dragged Jasper and Octavia back outside to check if everything was done preparing. There was no point in freaking out about not being infected, and first and foremost she had a responsibility to look after the herd.


End file.
